The sink slid aside with a grating rumble, revealing a dark, yawning pipe beneath. The sound echoed through the tiled bathroom, louder than it should have been.
Hermione clutched her wand tightly. "That's… not just plumbing."
"It goes straight down," Ron muttered, peering over the edge. "No ladder. No nothing."
Draco stepped back, face pale. "You're not seriously thinking of going in there now?"
Harry didn't answer. He just kept staring at the opening.
He could feel it. That low hum in his bones. The same pull he'd felt every time the voice had whispered through the walls. Whatever was down there—it was waiting.
Snape arrived moments later, robes sweeping the floor, his wand already drawn. His eyes darted from the opened pipe to the four students.
"You found it," he said quietly.
Harry nodded. "It opened when I spoke to it."
Snape's face gave nothing away, but his voice dropped lower. "Parseltongue. Of course."
Hermione stepped forward. "Professor, we don't know what's inside. But it has to be where the creature came from. Where the attacks started."
Ron added, "We don't even know if someone's still alive down there."
Draco crossed his arms. "Or if we'll ever come back up."
Snape looked at each of them in turn. "You will not go in there. I will."
"No," Harry said, too quickly. "I have to."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "This is not a Gryffindor stunt, Potter. That thing could kill you."
Harry swallowed. "I can hear it. It talks to me. It's never talked to anyone else—not even the people it's attacked. If I go, maybe it'll speak again."
A long silence passed. Then Snape did something none of them expected.
He nodded.
"But not alone."
---
Minutes Later – Beneath Hogwarts
The descent was slick and steep. Harry dropped first, sliding through the pipe, wand in hand. The tunnel twisted and tilted, stone rushing past his sides. He hit the bottom with a jolt, landing in a cold puddle.
One by one, the others followed—Snape last.
They stood in a corridor of slick stone and scattered animal bones. The air was wet and heavy with mildew, and a foul stench lingered.
"Charming place," Ron muttered, clutching his wand like a sword.
Snape motioned for silence and led them forward. Their footsteps echoed unnaturally loud.
Hermione walked close to Harry, eyes darting along the ceiling. "If the Basilisk is down here…"
"We don't look directly at it," Harry reminded her. "Reflections only."
Snape paused suddenly, raising his wand.
Something shifted in the darkness ahead.
A hiss. Long. Wet.
Then silence again.
---
Deeper Still
They came upon a massive stone door, etched with serpents. Fangs carved into its surface seemed to leer at them. Harry stepped forward.
"It's Parseltongue again," he said.
Snape gave him a nod. "When you're ready."
Harry faced the door. His tongue felt thick, dry. He spoke.
"Open."
The snakes slithered in the stone, twisting apart with a low groan. The door cracked open.
Beyond it lay a cathedral-like chamber—pillars lined with serpentine carvings, torches that burned green-blue along the walls.
In the center: a collapsed stone statue. Once towering, now cracked at the base. And lying at its feet—still and pale—was a girl.
"Ginny!" Ron shouted, rushing forward.
Snape yanked him back.
"Don't touch her."
Draco looked around uneasily. "Where's the monster?"
Harry stepped ahead. "I don't know…"
But something was wrong.
The air buzzed.
And then—a figure stepped from behind the statue.
Not a man. Not a boy.
Something in between.
Tom Riddle.